


Child of Surpise

by RaineyDay



Category: The Witcher (TV), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: Mpreg, Multi, Polyamory, Pregnancy, post mountain breakup
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-24
Updated: 2020-04-24
Packaged: 2021-03-02 00:35:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,983
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23816254
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RaineyDay/pseuds/RaineyDay
Summary: After breaking up with the two people he loves most, Geralt finds himself unexpectedly expecting. He's not quite sure how to find his lovers and apologize when he can barely get around at all anymore.
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion/Yennefer z Vengerbergu | Yennefer of Vengerberg
Comments: 5
Kudos: 131
Collections: Unusual_Bearings_2020





	Child of Surpise

**Author's Note:**

  * For [yodaisgreat](https://archiveofourown.org/users/yodaisgreat/gifts).



> For Unusual Bearings 2020! Hope you enjoy!

He regretted what he’d said. He knew that it had been untrue, and worse, cruel. At most, Jaskier had been the reason he’d been in a position to make the terrible choices he’d made, but he wasn’t responsible for the shit that had come along with those choices. Geralt was an adult who made his own decisions.

Jaskier may have been why he was at Pavetta’s betrothal banquet, but he didn’t force him to ask for the Law of Surprise as payment. His interference with the djinn may have led to Geralt meeting Yennefer, but he wasn't the one to make that final wish. Hell, the only reason they’d even met Yennefer was because Geralt’s unknowing first wish had hurt Jaskier, and that was entirely Geralt’s own fault.

And he’d been wrong with Yennefer too. Even if he didn’t regret the wish that saved her life, he should have respected her feelings and not belittled her for her desire to have a child, even though he did still think it was a bad idea. He still believed that nothing he’d said to her was wrong, but he’d been cruel in the way he’d said it and he ought to apologize for that.

If he could only find either of them, he would apologize.

He wasn’t sure if it was just bad luck, or if they were trying to avoid him, but either way, he hadn’t seen either of them in the two months since the dragon hunt, and it was getting closer and closer to winter.

He didn’t need to head straight for Kaer Morhen yet, but he was running low on supplies and needed to take what little time there was left in the season to stock up and take any late contracts that were available.

He’d heard whispers of some lingering monsters not far west of here. He didn’t especially want to leave his apologies until next year, but what else could he do? He’d find them again. Eventually.

-

He’d gotten hurt. The injury itself wasn’t too bad, but it shouldn’t have happened. He’d made a stupid mistake, mistimed an action, and though he had defeated the creature in the end, he’d ended up collapsing at the edge of town after he’d recieved his payment.

He woke in the evening sometime, finding himself laying on a thin bed with a blanket. He moved carefully, checking for any lingering pains. There was nothing more than the usual post-injury soreness, so he sat up and swung his legs over the side of the bed.

The sound of movement must have alerted the healer, for she came into the room just as he was setting his feet on her floor.

The healer was an older woman, the dark hair curling around her face just this side of obviously greying.

“Well hello,” she said. “Where do you think you’re going?”

“I’m okay,” Geralt said, unsure what her problem was with him getting up.

“I will be the one to decide that, sir Witcher,” the woman said, bustling over to his side and sizing him up visually. She reached out a tentative hand, eyebrows raised, and Geralt nodded. He felt fine, but if she wanted to reassure herself of that, he wouldn’t deny it.

When her appraisal was done, she stepped back.

“Alright, I agree. You are alright,” she nodded firmly. “I’m Nann. The townsfolk brought you to me when you collapsed after killing their monster. You’ve been out about two days while I worked on you. They’ve kept your horse in the town stables until you can return for her.”

“Thank you,” Geralt said. “My name is Geralt.”

“Yes, they told me.”

“What do I owe you?” Geralt asked, moving to stand and grab his things.

“I’ll tell you what. I saw you keep some rare herbs in your bag- now, I wasn’t snooping, but I had to put it somewhere and I saw inside- why don’t we have a trade of services? I don’t much like the idea of taking coin for healing you up after you saved this area from monsters, but I wouldn’t say no to some herbs for my potions and poultices. Healing herbs aren’t the cheapest after all.”

“Alright,” Geralt reached into his bag, pulling out the small array of rare ingredients he had at the moment and offering them for Nann’s inspection. When she’d made her selections, he closed his bag, preparing to head for the door.

“Where are you going?” Nann asked. “It’s late. You needn’t leave. You won’t get very far this late at night, and no one is going to be needing that bed tonight. Might as well stay until the morning.”

Geralt hesitated. It wasn’t common for a Witcher to be offered kindness without some strings attached, but Nann didn’t seem to be dishonest or hiding anything. And she was right that it was late enough that heading out wouldn’t get him much. Better to stay in a warm building with a bed than outside if it was available. He was practical enough to know how to sleep outside safely, but he wasn’t stupid enough to pass up a genuine offer of a safer place to stay.

“If you don’t mind,” he said.

“I just said I don’t, didn’t I?” Nann replied. “Now, I was about to make some food. If you want some, you’re free to help.”

She walked out into the kitchen, and Geralt followed soon after.

It was a surprisingly pleasant evening, helping her cook and sitting down to eat.

“You’ll be heading up to that Witcher fortress soon, I expect?” Nann asked.

Geralt hummed in agreement.

“Good. People ought to be somewhere stable in times like this, much as we can anyway.”

Geralt didn’t bother to point out how uncommon stability was for a Witcher.

The meal was good, and it was nice to pass the time in pleasant company, a thing that was rather difficult for him to find often. But after a while, Geralt started to wonder if he truly was fully healed or not. There was an unfamiliar and uncomfortable churning forming in his gut, and he wondered if he may have been poisoned and not realized it. There was very little that could affect a Witcher like this, but that also meant that it was extremely unlikely to simply be a passing illness.

He wondered if he ought to say something or not. If this was lingering damage from the fight, Nann would be in the best position to help. But if her friendliness was just an act, then he wouldn’t want to let on that he’d noticed.

He spent enough time debating the merits of speaking up that his body eventually reached a breaking point. Geralt threw himself from the table in time to heave into a bucket Nann must have been cleaning with earlier.

“Ah, well, better avoid this meal for a bit then, oughtn't we?” Nann commented mildly.

“Sorry for the mess,” Geralt said mildly, but his head was spinning. What was causing this?

“It’s to be expected. I should have asked if you were having this difficulty,” Nann waved a dismissive hand and stood, but Geralt didn’t see what she did next, needing to duck his head down and vomit again.

He heard the door to the outside open and the sounds of the dishes being scraped clean. He hadn’t realized how much the smell of the food was upsetting him until the door closed again and it became much less noticeable.

“Is that better?” Nann asked.

“Yes.” Geralt said. “What do you mean, ‘it’s to be expected’?”

“Simply that sickness like this is to be expected when one is carrying a babe,” Nann said, as if that made any sense.

Geralt could almost laugh. What had given her the idea that he was with child?

“I’m not pregnant.” He said.

“I am a healer. I examined you fully when you were brought it. I’m not going to miss something like that, not when I’ve seen it often enough. My scryer confirmed it,”

“No. You don’t understand. I *can’t* be pregnant. No Witcher can be, regardless of anatomy,” Geralt insisted. He knew, of course, that he had the proper parts to carry a child, but that didn’t change the fact that all Witchers were made sterile.

“You can’t, huh?” Nann laughed lightly. “Well, tell that to the babe. I’m sure it’ll go right away.”

“What even made you think I might be pregnant?” Geralt demanded.

“It took quite a bit of saving to get my scryer, I’m going to use it as often as I can. I had only intended to check for any damage I hadn’t noticed, but I saw the signs with it as well, and I’m not stupid.”

“Do you mind if I go lie down?” Geralt asked. He clearly wasn’t going to get anywhere with this discussion.

“Not at all,” Nann said, bending over to grab the bucket from his hands. 

As she headed for the door, Geralt made his way back to the small alcove he’d been lying in before. He laid back down, and took a bit to check in with his body more thoroughly. He’d not done much more than feel for injuries before, but if he was poisoned, then he would want to make sure nothing worse than one quick bout of sickness was coming his way.

He didn’t notice any other signs of illness, and he finally, reluctantly fell asleep.

-

He woke to another bout of nausea, and leaned over the edge of the bed to try and avoid making too terrible a mess. He found the bucket from the night before already there, and he could feel Nann’s knowing look watching him.

He shot a glare to her when he felt capable of lifting his head, and tried to ignore the way she only chuckled in response.

He left as soon as he could that morning, heading into town to get Roach and get back on the road. With the time that he’d spent recovering, winter had creeped closer, and he ought to head northwards a bit more than he had been.

The days on the road were normal enough, though there were a few more periods of recurring nausea. He never had any more serious indicators of poison arise though, so he kept moving. If the illness didn’t pass soon, then he would need to make his way straight to Kaer Morhen rather than allowing himself any more detours, but it wasn’t as though that wasn’t his destination already.

The fourth day, he couldn’t shake the feeling that someone was following him. After a few tense hours, in which nothing showed itself, he started to focus on his senses. What was he hearing or seeing or smelling that was setting off a sense of danger? He’d learned to trust his instincts- they were usually an indication that he was noticing something off, even if not consciously.

There didn’t seem to be any unusual sights or smells, so he turned his attention to his hearing. There- a heartbeat. Faster than his own, but slower than the average human. He tried to locate it, wondering why there weren’t more. If he was being followed, he’d have expected it to be by multiple people or monsters, or by something much larger than this heartbeat indicated.

It was close, he realized with some surprise. How could it be so close without being noticable in other- oh. Because it was coming from within him. Nann had been right, he thought, somewhat distantly, past the panic and confusion that filled his thoughts.

He didn’t understand any of this. It shouldn’t be possible. But the road was no place to try and contemplate something like this. He couldn’t afford any distractions. He had to get to Kaer Morhen. As soon as possible.

-

He sought out Vesemir as soon as he could. He thought the older Witcher was the only one here right now, which made his task somewhat easier. He just followed the sounds of someone else.

The explanation he gave Vesemir was uncertain and faltering, and met with immediate disbelief. That was, until he mentioned the heartbeat, and saw the disbelief turn to deep confusion. That didn’t make him especially hopeful that Vesemir could help him.

“I’ll look into it, Geralt,” he eventually assured him. “I don’t understand this any more than you, but I’ll see what I can find out. Perhaps there are records I can look through for answers.”

-

As winter fully settled in, a few more of his fellows made their way back. Geralt didn’t know if he should be glad to see them or not. He appreciated their company, but them being here meant he had to explain. Explain the recurrent nausea and exhaustion and soreness that was plaguing his days. Explain the slow but steady expansion of his stomach.

It was unnerving to watch his body change like this. It wasn’t something he had ever anticipated. He thought that it might seem much more obvious to him than to anyone else, but he refused to ask. He found himself alternating between avoiding looking at his stomach too much and staring at it, inspecting the tight, small bump that it was rapidly becoming.

Eventually, a few records did turn up, giving something of an explanation. Apparently, for those few humans capable of both impregnating and being impregnated, the sterilization rate was slightly lower. That fact had been forgotten, from a combination of the decreasing number of Withcers, the relative uncommonness of such humans, and the fact that it was still rare even for those particular Witchers to actually conceive successfully. Geralt was just glad he had an explanation before it became too obvious that he was expecting. Somehow, having an explanation made it somewhat easier to bear.

Though, it didn’t help him with bearing the child at all. His body was very much feeling the effects of this development. He ached, constantly, the pain slight but unending. There were still some unpredictable resurgences of nausea, and when he wasn’t sick, he was desperately hungry. There was also the fact that he *knew* he was more emotionally volatile than he usually was, and he hated that he was playing so much into the stereotypes, even if he knew they came about for a reason.

He tried not to be too obvious about these things, unsure how he would handle it if any of his brothers brought it up.

Midway through winter, he was starting to show rather obviously, and he had started worrying a lot about what he would do next. By the time winter ended, he’d be large enough that travel would likely be a bad idea, but he didn’t especially enjoy the idea of going into labor with no support from a Healer and potentially no one else at all, because he had no idea if any one would be staying for very long when spring came around.

And then there was the fact that afterwards, there would be a child. What was he meant to do with a child? There were reasons that he had avoided claiming his Child of Surprise, and they generally revolved around the fact that a Witcher would be a terrible parent for a child. The rest of them centered around the fact that _he_ would be a terrible father for a child.

He might have considered seeking out the child’s other father, if he thought the man was at all likely to speak with him, even before coming to him with the news that he had a child. But Jaskier hadn’t been willing to speak with him then, and now Geralt was in no position to even find him to talk in the first place.

-

Spring came, and with it, many of his fellows went on their way. It was very odd to not be making plans to leave as well, but with the condition he was in, he wouldn’t make it very far, let alone be capable of fighting any monsters that crossed his paths. He had been slightly surprised but pleased when Vesemir had come to him about a month back to make sure he wasn’t planning to do anything stupid like leave before the babe arrived.

He’d assured him he wouldn’t, and Vesemir had seemed relieved, telling him that he was planning to seek out a healer who would actually know something about helping a person through labor. Geralt would admit to being very relieved at the fact that he wouldn’t have to figure that out for himself.

As he’d said he would, Vesemir left and came back with a healer when the season thawed. The healer spent a good deal of time inspecting Geralt, feeling around his stomach and asking questions, before declaring that there seemed no obvious problems with the babe, and that they could call him back to Kaer Morhen when the birth got closer.

One of the most irritating matters about the others leaving was realizing how much he’d been relying on them over the winter. As he’d grown larger, it had become more and more difficult to do just about anything, and he hadn’t noticed how much the others had been quietly helping him until they were gone. He’d just about accepted that there were some tasks he would be unable to do until the babe was born when another surprise arrived.

-

There were three people walking into the fortress. One left almost immediately, which was frustrating, because Geralt had really wanted to wring his neck. Instead, he was left not even entirely certain which of his brothers had decided it was a good idea to bring Yennefer and Jaskier here.

Geralt wasn’t usually one to hide from things, but the thought of facing them right now was too much to deal with. Looking like he did right now, there was no way that they wouldn’t immediately come to some uncomfortable realizations. He hadn’t even gotten a chance to speak with them since the mountain, let alone explain anything that had happened since.

He heard them calling out for him, but he said nothing. What was he supposed to do?

Eventually he heard what he immediately recognized as Yennefer’s exasperated sigh.

“Geralt! We’ve already been informed of the child. There is no point to hiding yourself away like this, except that it will make us even more irritated when we find you!”

The voice came from close enough to him that his only real options were to reveal himself or be found moments later. There would be no more hiding.

He stood, struggling a bit with his changed center of gravity, and moved to where he could hear them both.

For a moment, they all stood silent, just looking at each other. Geralt had never been one to feel self-conscious, but the obvious examination made it hard to avoid.

“Hello, Yen, Jaskier,” he said finally.

“Hello Geralt,” Yennefer replied, ice in her voice. Jaskier was a different story though.

“Geralt! I am so sorry that you’ve had to deal with this by yourself!” Jaskier rushed over to him, hesitating a bit when he drew close, clearly unsure how to touch him, or if his touch would even be welcome.

“I was the one who yelled at you to leave,” Geralt muttered. “Which I am sorry about.” It was more difficult to say the words than he had thought it would be.

“Well, yes, that was upsetting, and the apology is welcome, but that doesn’t mean I’m not sorry either. I may not have had any _reason_ to expect I’d be leaving you alone with this… event, but I still did,” Jaskier replied, and Geralt didn’t fully realize how soothing it would be to hear his chattering again until this moment.

“Why did you come here?” Geralt asked.

“Why- why did I come here?” Jaskier stammered in affront. “Because though I may be a cad, I’m not so much of a bastard that I would leave the pregnant person I love to deal with this alone!”

Geralt felt his heart skip a beat at his words. He hadn’t quite dared to hope that Jaskier would still want anything to do with him, but here he was, saying that he loved him.

“I more meant to ask Yen,” Geralt said, because he didn’t know what else to say, and that truly was rather confusing to him. He could understand why Jaskier had been brought here, but Yen was another matter.

“I was there when your fellow found Jaskier to tell him about his impending fatherhood. And, I wasn’t going to miss the birth of a child that is, in a way, mine.”

“How do you figure that?” Geralt asked.

“Judging by how far along you are, you do realize that it very possible that I was there when this babe was conceived don’t you? Besides which, it is my husband’s child you’re having, as well.”

Geralt truly had no idea what expression he was making about that response, but it made Yennefer laugh, so it couldn’t be too bad.

“That is a misleading statement!” Jaskier hurried to interrupt. “It was not a legal wedding, nor was it for any of the traditional reasons!”

“I would say that getting a man and a woman out of a significant bit of trouble _is_ one of the most common reasons for a wedding, though if you were referring to romantic love, it is true that it was not a factor.”

“I was actually referring to monetary benefit, and familiar power,” Jaskier sniffed, though Geralt knew that he hadn’t actually meant that. He was surprised by the way that Yennefer laughed genuinely in response to Jaskier’s words, but he was pleased to see them getting along.

“I’m sorry, Yen,” Geralt said, when her laughter had died down and they were left in silence. He thought there might be a better way to bring this up than this, but he needed to apologize, and it had already been put off long enough.

“For?” Yennefer asked, and Geralt knew that he was entering dangerous territory.

“For dismissing your fears and your desires. I’m not sorry for saving your life, but I am sorry that my way of doing so upset you. I should have said something earlier. I was rude and insulting when we met on the mountain, and it was cruel to treat you that way.”

There was a long pause, before Yennefer’s expression softened.

“I’m not done being angry yet. But I accept your apology,” she said, stepping close enough to press a kiss to his lips. He kissed back eagerly.

“Well, now I’m regretting not waiting for you to apologize,” Jaskier huffed. “All I got was ‘I’m sorry’ and Yen gets what, for you, amounts to speech, and a rather lovely looking kiss?”

Geralt broke away from Yennefer at that, looking to Jaskier. He could tell from the amusement on his face that he didn’t mean it, so rather than trying to respond with words, he just pulled Jaskier into a kiss as well. It was somewhat awkward with the new barrier between them, but they managed anyway.

Geralt eventually pulled back, shifting on his feet. It had been getting rather uncomfortable to stand for too long, and his ankles had started screaming at him.

“Why don’t you show us where we can sleep?” Jaskier commented mildy. “You look like you don’t want to be standing much longer, and we have a bed or bedroll or pile of hay or whatever terrible thing Witchers think is acceptable to sleep in to break in.”

Later, laying in one of the only positions he could still feel comfortable in, with his lovers close enough to kiss and a feeling of comfort settling into his bones, Geralt managed to sleep soundly for the first time in months.


End file.
